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“I charge you to find her, Harrison. Open an investigation. I want the name of the man who put the babe in her belly. By God, he’ll do right by her. You have the full use of my men and name to complete this task and keep me abreast with daily reports. I will deal with Clearwater.”
There was a thump on the door, and then it was pushed open. A head peeked around, and golden eyes scanned the room. They skimmed over Harrison, and when they landed on Richard, his heart jerked. It never failed to amaze him the manner in which her entire face transformed whenever she saw him. There was always a relief, as if she was not sure if he would be there, then trust, as if all in her world was now safe, and then a blinding happiness he would never want to see replaced by fear or hurt again.
“You are late, Papa. I’ve been waiting for five full minutes.” Without waiting for an invitation, she skipped into the library, leaving the door ajar. Her dark hair was mussed and loosed from its simple chignon, a suspicious dark spot marred her cheeks, and her dress had grass stains…and she had bare feet. At least she had on stockings, very dirty stockings.
“Good day, Mr. Harrison,” she said with a quick curtsy that was really a bob of her head and an indifferent dip of her shoulder. She was quite petite for her age in comparison to other seven-year-olds he had seen, but she had a large personality.
The man stood, understanding their meeting was over. “Miss Emily, a pleasant good day to you. I was about to take my leave. I will have a report of the situation by tomorrow, my lord.”
Richard nodded, downed the rest of his brandy, and set the glass on the table. He grabbed Emily and swung her into his arms. As was her usual way, she twisted, climbing his shoulders to settle atop them comfortably.
They escorted Harrison from the house and watched as he collected hi
s carriage and pulled away from the estate. A chin rested atop his head, and a sigh too heavy for such a small body issued from his daughter. “I believe I ate too much gingerbread, Papa.”
“Is that what is on your cheeks?”
A sweet chortle came from above. “They were dipped in chocolate icing. Are we to still play cricket today? Everyone is waiting for you on the lawns, Papa.”
Everyone being the other children who had been with her on that fateful night, plus another two. James had elected to stay with his sister Clara and was trying now to assimilate into their odd band of family. In total, he had eight children living at Kencot Manor, his main residence since he’d broken from his father.
“Then let’s get on with cricket, shall we?”
He rounded the corner, heading to the eastern side of the estate, and faltered, equal shock and pleasure freezing him in place. Evie. Predictably, her unexpected appearance had his heart jerking into a hard rhythm, and his mouth went dry. What was she doing at his estate? She’d not sent word ahead that she would travel down from town. Had something happened?
“Who is she, Papa?” his daughter asked from where she was perched atop his shoulders. God’s blood, for precious seconds he’d forgotten she was with him. Sudden apprehension scythed through his heart. He was not ready for his daughter to see him interact intimately with Evie. His little Emily was quite perceptive and very much ached for a mother. Though she was tentative with her questions, several times she queried the existence of her mother, and he was painfully aware as she grew older she would need a woman in her life.
Richard would hate for her to observe him with Evie and feel any sort of hope in relation to her. He cared little for society’s censure, but to Evie, it was the center of her existence. He could not imagine her publicly claiming his daughter as her own, suffering society’s derision for it, the loss of friends, drawing rooms being closed to her, and perhaps even estrangement from her family. It did not escape him that since a gathering at Wolverton’s estate a few months past for the duke’s twin sons’ christening, Evie had made no overture to be seen in public with his daughter and her band of undesirables. A pity that. But it told him everything he needed to know, even though he often fisted his cock and stroked himself to the image of riding Evie, pressing her deep into his mattress as he worked out the lust that had been brewing in his gut for her for six long years.
“That is Lady Evie. You’ve met before at Rosette Park.”
“She is like a princess,” his daughter said softly, evident awe in her voice. “Don’t you agree, Papa?”
He grunted, unable to form an intelligent response. Garbed in a pale pink high-waisted gown, she was truly ravishing. A few curls had escaped the confines of her bonnet and whispered becomingly against her cheek. Her gaze was drinking in his estate, and he quite liked the admiration he saw. This was one of the three manors he owned through his own hard work and had nothing to do with his father. Evie’s gaze settled on him and warmth lit her expression.
“My lord, how delightful to see you.” Pursing her lips, she tilted her head and considered his daughter. “How charming to see you again, Lady Emily,” Evie said and dipped into a deep curtsy.
His daughter giggled, the sweet sound traveling to a soft place in his heart where few people resided.
“I ain’t no lady.”
“You’re not?”
“Uh-huh. Papa says I’m a mischievous imp.”
“Mind your manners, Emily.” He gripped his daughter by the waist and lowered her to the ground. She dipped into a curtsy, then stood, fairly hopping from one foot to the other.
His Emily was staring at Evie with bright-eyed anticipation. “Delighted to see you, too,” his daughter said almost shyly.
His heart twisted at the naked hunger darkening Emily’s eyes as she stared at Evie.
“Why are you here?” he asked gruffly.
“Is that the way to greet a friend?” she asked, then softened with a smile. “How are you today, Richard?”
His mouth went dry. She’d always had the power to bring him to his knees with a smile. “Are you here alone?”
“Hmm, I could hardly indulge in lessons with a chaperone, now could I?”
